Monday, March 24, 2008

Birth Story Carnival-Ride #2

Some people get sick on carnival rides. Some get so sick they decide never to ride again. Others forget easily and take another chance. After all, not all rides are the same so we can’t assume we will have the same experience on a different ride. I am a gluten and decided to take another spin.

When Daddy and I found out we were having Little Man we already knew we wanted another child. Timing was important though. Daddy wanted to try for “Irish Twins” (ya know, like Brittany Spears but without the white trash). I told Daddy I would consider it after I recovered from delivering Little Man.

For my immediate, or church family, you may want to skip the next part. You may have a hard time looking at me at the next dinner or at the communion alter.

There was the fear of getting back on the bike after delivery, but nothing a few margaritas won’t fix. Nana Joetta came down to Florida from Missouri to meet the “grand” child and we took advantage of the opportunity to go out with other adults for our first night out as parents. We stared at one of my favorite spots in Bonita Springs; Cantina Laredo. “The Cantina serves authentic Mexican dishes in a sophisticated atmosphere.” You might question how sophisticated this group was by the end of the story. After dinner we head to Dwyer’s Irish pub for drinks and dancing. By the end of the night we are crashing a friend’s pool that stood us up for Kelly Clarkson of all things’ serves them right. When their eight year old daughter came out side and asked the home owner why we didn’t swim during the day he said “honey, that just wouldn’t be as fun”. Gracious Jim finally said we didn’t have to go home but couldn’t stay there. We headed to our neighborhood pool. About an hour into our dip we are rudely interrupted by our neighbor security that informs us the pool area has new security cameras and accuses us of “indecent exposure”. As mother of a four week old, I was pretty proud of myself and explained I was far from indecent under the circumstances. All the couples headed home, which fortunately was walking distance from the pool.

**This is the part that does not need details but I will say I lost my fear and got back on the bike**

The next morning we relive the night by telling stories to Daddy’s mom. She is so cool.

Daddy and I realize we have a good chance of getting pregnant soon; after all, they say you are pretty fertile after delivery. That is why they suggest abstinence until the six week checkup. At my six week check I ask my midwife for forgiveness rather than permission. She tells me all is well since I was healing well and obviously comfortable.

Weeks turn into months and what had once been “for the fun of it” turns into “trying” to conceive again. It was so easy to conceive Little Man what is the deal this time. I remind myself how lucky we are and how beautiful Little Man is; maybe we are meant to only have one. I feel guilty for being so selfish; after all there are lots of people that don’t even get pregnant once. We move back to Missouri in March of 2006 and I visit my new OB (they don’t do midwives here, but that is a whole other post). As I sit and talk to my new fabulous OB Frank he tells me to be patient and although Daddy is irresistible, cool down and it will happen. Little did Franks and I know I would be back in eight weeks and be eight weeks pregnant! I told you he was fabulous; I didn’t even have to take my clothes off or take fertility drugs! The irony of The Babe’s conception is it was the night that I flew in from Florida with Little Man. Daddy was leaving for an annual fishing trip on the White River and I told him (at midnight when we finally made it to bed) that it was time. He asked, with a very sensitive tone, if it could wait; he was so tired form the move. I laid on the guilt. You don’t want another baby do you? I am finally ovulating (looking back I don’t think my body fully got back into cycle until this time) and you changed your mind! It worked. He sighed and said fine, roll over. He is much more romantic than this makes him sound.

I will fast forward to delivery as my pregnancy was pretty uneventful. I was sick a lot; partly due to what Little Man brought home from daycare and the fact that I was pregnant in Missouri in the winter. Yuck and Yuck.

So my due date was a topic of regular debate at my check ups. I said December 21st; I should know, I was there. Frank said closer to early January. He must have known something I did not. The three of us were planning our Thanksgiving trip to St Louis to see my dad and family. Our plans were changed when at the beginning of the week I went for my check up. Hmmm, you are dilated to a five and at least a month ahead of schedule. You should stay in 417 land unless you want to be stuck in the city on steroids to prevent labor. I had already been having contractions and knew we were close. I had not experienced Braxton Hicks with Little Man so I figured this was for real. We spend Thanksgiving in town with Daddy’s family and have a great time although I missed my annual trip to the city for Turkey. I spent the next week experiencing intermittent contractions and going about my business; eating spicy food, having sex, and walking a lot. I was still convinced I was not that early mind you.

Tuesday November 28th. My contractions are getting a little stronger and different than before. I call my
doula Ginny. If you are not familiar with doulas you should check them out. They are a fabulous addition to the birthing process and great advocate for your health and well being of the baby. Ginny also took a lot of pressure off Daddy so he could enjoy the process. Ginny tells me to take a bath and try to relax; if the contractions continue they are probably real. I do as instructed and head to bed. I am awakened around midnight and know it is happening. You know what I mean moms; you just know. We start clocking them; about 5 minutes about. Call Nana to come over for Little Man. She is swift and arrives quickly. We head to the hospital where we enter through the ER and head to L/D. Ginny arrives shortly after us. A call to my OB, who happens to be the only doctor that stays at the hospital when he is on call, says we will monitor my progress. Progress is slow and I am told a couple of hours into that I will be sent home but I am instructed to not do anything to induce labor. The nurse leaves the room and I told Daddy and Ginny I am not leaving without this baby (we still did not know if it was a boy or girl). My contractions are still solid and steady. The nurse comes back in to check me; baby’s heart rate is dropping, time to admit. Told you I wasn’t leaving. I am very nervous. I know I am a little early but now is my baby ok? Did my activities last week cause this? Bad mommy.

We are admitted and Ginny’s hands are immediately tied by the nurse. Do not do anything to induce labor. Ginny’s job here is to make me comfortable and make labor less miserable. Now she is told not to do that. I cannot even get out of bed to pee. Baby’s heart rate is still an issue; I am placed on oxygen. Nurses continue to monitor me and the contractions. Finally they take me seriously when the contraction monitor almost combusts from the contractions. Here comes epi man, who happens to be the guy that did my happy gas for knee surgery and Little Man’s tubes; we are almost family now.

Highest priority is on the baby’s well being. Every contractions causes a dip in his rate. I am slowly progressing but with the heart rate issue they decide to break my water. This ain't my first rodeo so I am ready. Still not fast enough; a little shot of pitocin should do the trick. A little more, ah right there. Here comes
Frank and as if there is an echo from Little Man’s delivery “Where the hell have you been”? He laughs and so do I. I am strangely jovial at this point, trying to make a love connection between single OB and single LD nurse. We joke about the sex of the baby. Every has their ideas. Doc says it would be great if the baby was a black girl. According to Frank, not only girls, but African American children that are early, tend to be smaller and as such will go home with fewer health issues. That may be good for The Babe, bad for me. We all get a good laugh…which allows me to push. One , two, three. Here the Baby Be. The Babe arrived November 29th around 9am at 6.9 lbs to a full room of well wishers. Me, Daddy, Doula, Frank, NIC doctor and nurse, and LD nurse. NIC doctor says he is a healthy 37 week baby. Told you Frank.

The Babe is
laid on my chest and I am in awe of our new miracle. How can I have possibly done this again? I cannot wait for Little Man to meet his brother.

This is where things are drastically different from Florida. Our room, is not private. Tip: if you must share a room, try to get the window seat. The bathroom seat means you see every person come in the room and have to watch your roommate every time she uses the bathroom.

There is an snow storm, not pretty sunshine. There are lots of visitors, not privacy. The Babe does not stay in the room with me. He has to stay in the nursery to stay warm as he is having issues regulating his temp. I have to call the nursery to beg them to bring him to me. The time we are together at the hospital we eat and cuddle and talk about brother and life in the tree house. We are both excited to go home. Before we go home, though, The Babe must pass “the car seat test”. Can he make it in a car seat for up to 45 minutes? No. The Babe needs a “car bed’ which is a flat version of a car seat that makes sure that The Babe’s airway is not blocked should he tilt his head too far down. I am ok with this. He can use a regular car seat in a few weeks after he passes a follow up test.

All is well the first few weeks. Christmas is coming and we are excited about the holiday with a 17 month old and new born. Little Man loves his brother and is a big helper with the
bottles and diapers. At this point The Babe sleeps a lot so Little Man is not really fazed by him.

Week 3 for The Babe. I am startled by his screaming one afternoon when he wakes. This is a new scream. Pain. I try food first. Scream. Maybe he needs to poop? I take off his diaper while considering a suppository. Daddy comes in while I remove the diaper and says “that is not right”. From the other side of the room Daddy sees the bulge. Hernia. Inguinal. I stay home with Little Man and Daddy whisks The Babe to Peds office. We were away this may happen; The Babe had one ball that liked to crawl up. We had been monitoring it and pushing it back in place if necessary. This one required some effort from the Ped Surgeon. We are scheduled first thing the next morning to
operate. Guess who does the happy gas? Same guy that did all the other happy gas. We are really family now. After a double hernia operation The Babe is good as new. His belly button was a littler herniated as well but will grow out of it by the age of one.

The holidays are uneventful and we do the regular run around town. The New Year comes and goes and The Babe is sleeping a lot more. We figure he is sleeping off the cold brother brought home. We decide to call the doc when he begins to not want to wake to eat. Seems The Babe’s cold turned into RSV. Oxygen saturation is 73% at the Peds office. Although The Babe was a little early we, along with our Doc, decided not to do RSV shots because The Babe did not meet the weight requirement; talk about feeling guilty. Back to the hospital we go. We are “quarantined” and spend three days monitoring The Babe. He looks like a science project hooked up to all the hoses and bells. It is nearly impossible to pick him up to feed him and love on him but we do. His saturation rises and he begins to eat well again and gain weight. We are sent home with a monitor to make sure he stays on the track to health. Then the ice man cometh. We spend the next week fighting the SWMO ice storm of 2007. We are out of power for a week and use a generator to get things “back to normal”. It was the scariest time I can remember. Feedings by flashlight. Using a portable cooler to keep his formula. Turning the monitor on before each feeding to check sat rate only to turn off to avoid battery drain. The part of the house that was not heated was 43 degrees. We spent our time in the master bedroom with the gas fireplace on to heat our room and the boys’ rooms. That which does not kill us only makes us stronger.

The Babe is our little tough guy now. Nothing seems to faze him. He can roll off a bed, get his fingers pinched in a drawer and not miss a beat. Then walk over to Little Man and pull his hair. What does Little Man do? Scream bloody murder!


Law Student Hot Mama said...

What different stories these two are! As for being afraid of getting back on the horse . . . um . . .after delivering my 9 lbs. 6 oz. baby through my hoo-ha, getting back on the horse is probably like throwing a hot dog down a train tunnel.

And I'm glad he's so healthy and hearty now!

The MomBabe said...

seriously, I just ♥ birth stories. Hooray for Irish twins!

Mighty Morphin' Mama said...

Sounds like you really were on a bit of a scary ride with him. So glad he is healthy and happy now.
I laughed so hard at your 'getting back on the horse' story. You guys are way too much fun!